Chapter 23
''You really think Jonathan can be good?'' Max asked as Clary prepared to leave with her books.
Clary looked at Max. Short as she was, Max was already catching up to her in height. Yet there was still something about his face that showed how young he was.''I think he deserves a chance,'' she said. ''Just like anyone else.''
Max nodded. ''So, you're not angry with me?'' he asked.
''Angry?'' Clary was bewildered. ''Max, no. If anything, I am immensely grateful.''
Max didn't look convinced. ''Really?''
She nodded seriously. ''Really.'' Clary couldn't begin to imagine what would have become of her if Max hadn't brought Jonathan back. Would her memories have slowly come back on their own accord? Or would she have forever felt that horrible dread and wrongness?
Max smiled in relief. He said goodbye and promised to stay put until Isabelle and Jace returned. Clary watched him disappear back into the Institute before walking away down the street.
As she walked, her mind couldn't help but wander to something Luke had said earlier that morning. Was she sure her memories weren't connected to Max bringing Jonathan back? Perhaps Jonathan coming back to life had been the cause.
Doesn't matter, She scolded herself. What's done is done.
Clary tried to push the thought of her parents out of her mind. They hadn't said anymore to each other since Clary had locked herself in her room. When she had texted Jace, she had simply slipped out the front door while Jocelyn and Luke were in the bedroom. It wasn't until she was halfway to Taki's she had bothered to send a text informing them of her whereabouts.
She wasn't used to fighting with her mother. Sure, they argued about curfews, about going to the Pandemonium, but never something like this. Even when Jocelyn had come to Idris after Magnus cured her and they fought in Amatis' kitchen Clary hadn't felt like this. This feeling of doubt, of wondering where exactly she was supposed to go from here.
Clary's feet had led her to a park. She tossed her books and bag on a bench and sat down, burying her face in her hands. Her head hurt. The few bites she had eaten at Taki's sat uncomfortably in her stomach. She felt as thought there were a million things she had to do, but she didn't know what they were.
'She suspected Valentine was alive.'
If the bones of Michel Wayland hadn't convinced her of her husband's death, why would the bones of a little boy convince her of her son's?
There couldn't have been any bones, Clary thought with horrible clarity. Or, at least not real bones. Glamours, maybe. But not real bones.
Clary sighed and straightened up, throwing her hair back over her shoulders and out of her face. Her hair band must've slipped off her wrist last night at Jace's, and she'd been to scattered at home to grab another. She stubbornly stuffed her books in her bag, ignoring the thoughts she'd just had. She didn't want to think about Jocelyn possibly knowing Jonathan had been alive. And she certainly didn't want to think about that boy…
Getting to her feet, Clary knew where she had to go. Despite not wanting to think about the boy, she needed to know if he was alive. And her brother was the only one who would know.
Clary made her way slowly to the lot. As she approached, she tried to contact Jonathan. You there?
Yeah, he replied almost immediately. Where are you?
Outside. There was no response as Clary reached where the door was. Before she could reach for the handle, the doorway appeared.
Jonathan opened the door for Clary to enter. ''Is something wrong?'' He asked as he closed the door behind her.
Clary turned to look at him. The mixture of familiarity and uncertainty rose up in her again. ''Not exactly,'' she replied. He sat on the arm of the couch and watched as she shrugged her bag off her shoulder and onto the floor. He wouldn't quite meet her gaze. ''I- I told my family…''
Jonathan didn't seem surprised at this. He simply nodded. ''What did you tell them?''
''Well, that I know you.''
''Clarissa-'' Jonathan paused for words. Clary noticed his fingers drumming against each other, their nails digging into the skin. ''Do you think all that I did was because of demon blood?''
Clary blinked in surprise. ''Do you think that?''
Jonathan laughed without mirth. ''It would be nice story,'' he mused. ''But no, I don't.''
''Then why would you think I did?''
''Just the impression I got.''
''From who? Me?'' Clary approached the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning on the coffee table. ''I don't think that.''
''Then what do you think?'' Jonathan managed to look her in the face, and Clary was a little startled at how he looked. Still pale, still sickly. ''No matter what we've remember of before, it doesn't change what happened, the things I did. Max might be alive but I still killed him. I still controlled Jace. Lucian's sister is still dead. And you-''
He broke of, looking back at his hands again. Clary needed no reminders of what he had tried to do to her. ''All of that doesn't just get erased,'' he concluded in a low voice.
Clary nodded. ''I know,'' she said. ''Just because it helps me to think about the demon blood being the cause doesn't mean I believe it to be true. Not entirely.'' She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye. ''But it works both ways, Jonathan. It wasn't entirely your fault either. Our memories, they show that had we found a way to get you away from Valentine, you could've been different. Those things didn't need to have happened. I think that you gave into the darkness inside you and now it's gone. I think you can start over.''
''And how do you know that I won't turn out to be the same?'' Jonathan challenged. ''After all, Valentine was human, wasn't he? Nothing he did had anything to do with demon blood in his veins.''
Clary shook her head. ''Valentine never doubted his mission,'' she countered. ''And he never would have sat here listing his crimes trying to convince his little sister that he's a bad person.'' Jonathan stared at her. ''Bad people don't wonder if they are bad people. They don't stop to evaluate like you just did. They don't show remorse.'' Jonathan continued to stare at her. ''What?''
He shrugged. ''You just called yourself my little sister.''
Clary blinked. She had. And it had rolled right off her tongue. ''Well, I am aren't I?''
Jonathan looked away again, but this time with a smile. ''Now that that's settled,'' Clary said, sitting back on her legs on the floor. ''There's something I need to ask you.''
''About what?''
''The boy,'' Clary said. Jonathan turned to her again. ''The boy with no pupils.''
Jonathan nodded as he thought. ''Last time I saw him was right before the Mortal War,'' he said. ''Valentine went to visit him. He thought maybe his gift of prophecy would help.''
Clary felt her heart sink. ''So he's alive?''
''As far as I know.'' Jonathan noticed her expression. ''What is it?''
Clary shook her head. ''I don't know. It's a little worrisome knowing he's around.''
''You want to track him down?'' Jonathan seemed to brighten at the idea. ''A little reunion?''
''Yes,'' Clary said with a laugh. ''Let's poke the bear with a stick.''
''I don't see why not. He no doubt knows about us remembering.''
''True.'' Clary cocked her head to the side. ''Why did he intervene?''
''I don't know. It hasn't all come back yet.'' A silence fell over them. ''Clarissa,'' Jonathan began again. ''Are you asking about him because you told Jocelyn?''
Clary looked at the table. ''She knew,'' she said softly. ''Not just from you coming to our apartment but before she even left Idris-''
''Clary.'' Clary looked up and met Jonathan's gaze. He shook his head. ''Please don't-''
''She knew you weren't dead,'' Clary said, saying it aloud for the first time. ''All along.''
''She might've suspected,'' Jonathan consented. ''But knowing for certain…''
''You were her child!'' Clary felt her anger from that morning rush back. ''She should've gone on the off chance! Instead she had a pathetic ritual where every year she'd cry over a lock of hair!''
''She chose you!'' Jonathan shouted back. ''She picked you over me, Clary.''
Clary stared at him. ''I can't believe you are defending her!''
''It's not your battle,'' Jonathan said. ''You don't know the whole story about the days before she left. So please, don't try and be angry for me. You don't know and I really don't want to be the reason you and your mother fight.''
''Jonathan-''
''Please just leave it.''
It was only because the wording was that of her own plea to her mother that Clary stopped talking. Jonathan was right, it wasn't her place to be angry. Her life could've been very different had Jocelyn taken Jonathan with her, but Clary couldn't exactly complain about her upbringing. Jocelyn had done everything she could for Clary, and Clary's position still stood: she couldn't throw all that back in her face.
She let out a reluctant sigh. ''Alright.'' She unfolded her legs and got to her feet. ''I better leave. Everything at home…'' she trailed off, but Jonathan nodded understanding. Clary was just picking up her bag when she turned back to him. ''You have food here, right?'' Jonathan nodded again. ''And clothes?''
''Why do you ask?'' Jonathan said, glancing down at his same dirty clothes he wore yesterday.
''No reason.''
''There's stuff upstairs,'' he replied, motioning to the staircase. ''I have everything I need.''
''Good.'' Clary went towards the door. ''Bye.''
''Bye, Clary.''
Clary smirked over her shoulder. ''Did you notice?''
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. ''Noticed what?''
''During the conversation,'' Clary said. ''You started calling me Clary.''
Jonathan blinked before replying in a mocking tone, ''Well, you are aren't you?''
Clary laughed.
