Chapter 27
The only constant was the pain. The burning in his heart, the sharp pain in his ribs, the throbbing of his head- time echoed in and out, but the pain remained.
He heard a faint voice. He didn't know if he slept or just blacked out, but his eyes were open and he saw Max. He was talking. First to him and then somehow he was on the phone. To who? Jonathan tried to listen to the conversation but couldn't interpret the sounds he heard into words. Moments passed, ticking by with the pain being the only clear thing he was aware of. It was burning inside of him, spreading throughout his body.
The pain made time drag on, yet it couldn't have been long when another presence in the house made Jonathan's ears prick. It took him a moment to focus and realize Max was there. There or still? Had he been there before? He couldn't remember. But there was something else, something at the bottom of the stairs. Max was looking over there. Jonathan wished he could see, or at least hear what Max was saying.
Something touched his face. Warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was. Something burned against his arm, more pain. But this was a different pain, and after the initial burning there was relief. A healing rune. Someone moved above him and he felt their stele mark him on his neck too. The sensation traveled down his spine, bringing his attention to the wetness on his back. His wings. The slits. They had reopened.
His head pounded as someone moved him. That warmth again, warmth from someone's fingers. A voice, but it was to far away. He couldn't hear it, couldn't make it out…
Blink if you can hear me.
It sounded in his mind, making him tremble. Clary. But was it really her? Had it ever really been her?
Shut up, he told himself. With great effort he brought his attention back to what he could see. Darkness. It was late. They were on the stairs.
He blinked.
He could feel Clary shudder. He let his eyes fall shut as she pressed her forehead against his.
It's okay. I've got you. You are going to be okay.
….
Waiting until he heard the front door shut, Jonathan carefully slipped out of Clary's orange walled room and entered the living room. ''Next time, wait until she is definitely gone before calling me.''
Clary didn't answer him. She was sitting on the couch. Jonathan opened his mouth to speak louder but caught himself just in time to see Clary was on the phone. ''Yeah, Simon… No I'll be fine. It's just a cold…Mom won't be long… Okay, bye.''
She clicked off the phone and turned to face Jonathan. ''It is considered polite not to talk to people when they are on the phone,'' she reprimanded.
''But then what is the point of calling?'' he asked in fake misunderstanding. Clary glared at him as he came and sat down next to her. ''Who was that?''
''Simon.'' Clary hung the phone on the stand on the side table. ''Mom thinks I'm hanging out with him and he thinks I'm home sick.''
''The perfect alibi.''
''Indeed.'' She folded her arms and looked at him. ''So, what shall we do?''
''Well, since you're at death's door, I guess nothing.''
''Ah ha, ah ha, ah ha.''
Jonathan shrugged. ''You certainly don't look okay.''
''I look fine.'' Clary got up and grabbed her sweatshirt that was hanging on the back of a chair. ''Now c'mon. Or are we going to waste our day?''
They spent the day traipsing about the city. Despite her flushed cheeks and running nose, Clary seemed fine. That is, until they came across some Falk Demons.
They were fast but easy to deal with, and soon they dispatched them. Jonathan turned away from the one he killed with a frown, annoyed at the interruption. He felt his heart stop as he saw his sister. ''Clary!''
She had slid down against a tree, her dagger in her hand. When he got to her, she was gasping heavily for breath and her previously flushed face had been replaced by a horrible pallor. She coughed, the sound horribly deep and wet.
Jonathan knelt next to her. ''The hell?'' he asked.
She let out a weak laugh at his manner. ''Sorry,'' she said raspingly. ''I don't feel good.''
''Really? Could've fooled me.'' He sat down, letting her rest her head on his shoulder.
''I did fool you.''
''Yes, why?''
She shrugged. ''I wanted to go. I didn't want a little cold to stand in the way.''
''This is a little cold?''
''Probably not anymore.'' She shifted a little, turning away to cough into her sleeve. ''Sorry. I'll get you sick.''
Jonathan waved aside the comment. ''Demons don't get sick.''
''Never?''
''Never.''
She seemed surprised at that but didn't make further comment. She buried her face back into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. She felt warm. ''Clary, do colds make people feel hot?''
''Sometimes,'' she replied in a drowsy tone.
Since it was clear she wasn't going to be walking anywhere, Jonathan simply wrapped her in an hug to reach and turn the ring on his finger. In a moment they were back in her apartment, standing by the couch.
Clary stumbled and Jonathan helped her get on the couch. She shivered, curiously cold despite the heat from her skin. Jonathan handed her a blanket from the chair and she wrapped herself in it gratefully. ''Do you want anything?''
Clary shook her head, closing her eyes and laying against the cushions. ''Nope. Just sleep.''
Jonathan nodded. ''I should go then…''
Her eyes snapped open again at that. ''No!'' She protested. ''Please don't. I don't want to be alone.''
He blinked at her. ''Your mother-''
''Won't be home for hours.'' She paused to cough violently.
Jonathan nodded understanding as he sat down next to her. Clary closed her eyes again.
As time went on, Clary's position shifted as she slept uneasily. Her fever climbed, no doubt from the exertion of the fighting and the running they had done. Her head was in his lap now, and in terror he watched her shiver and cry out in her sleep. He didn't know what to do. He stroked her hair and held her hand, hoping his natural coldness would cut some of her heat. This was the one time he wished Jocelyn would come back soon.
Suddenly Clary's eyes opened. She sat up with a start and began coughing vigorously. Her whole body shook as she desperately coughed and tried to breath at the same time. When she finally stopped, she fell back against him in exhaustion. She began to cry from how awful she felt, and Jonathan held her and whispered to her soothingly.
''It's okay. I've got you. You are going to be okay.''
….
When consciousness returned, Jonathan was startled at how still everything seemed. The pain, though still there, was much duller than it had been. So much so he felt disoriented by that fact along. Prying his eyes open, he saw the silvery light of night shine in through the window. He wondered if it was the same night or the next.
He attempted to sit up by pushing himself up on his hands, but winced as he remembered too late about his wrist. He relaxed back onto his pillow, staring at the bandage of his wrist and the heeling runes on his forearm. There were also blood replacement runes.
Jonathan closed his eyes again as he took a mental check of his injuries. The healing runes on his forearms and the back of his neck had taken care of much of the smaller cuts and bruises. His ribs hurt considerably less as well. He realized his bloodied shirt was gone, and the bandages on his back were fresh. He was cold, despite being under blankets.
Blankets and pillow? It was only upon this realization that Jonathan opened his eyes again and saw he was in the bedroom upstairs. A vague memory of Clary urging him to stand and helping him down the hall passed through his mind, along with a sharper memory of the pain. Jonathan blinked the scene away.
He was so cold. He fleeting thought of getting up and finding a sweatshirt of some kind to cover his bare torso, but another attempt at sitting up, this time being carful of his injured wrist, proved that impossible. All he managed was to shift himself so he was facing the other way.
He was slightly taken aback to see Clary on the other side of the bed, asleep atop the covers. Her phone was in her hands, a telling sign that she hadn't planned to fall asleep.
''They will say one thing at one time and then another at a another time. They don't know how to commit. They don't know how to savor anything.'' The Queen let out a laugh as a thought occurred to her. ''Well, perhaps Clary does.''
If she wanted to kill me, she could've done it ten times over already, Jonathan thought back at the intrusive memory. She is not manipulating me.
''Clary isn't like that,'' he repeated.
The Queen laughed. ''Indeed,'' she agreed. ''But I am.''
Jonathan didn't believe the Queen's suggestion. He didn't believe the implication that this was all a dream, a part of her torture for him. He believed that this was real, that everything that had happened since leaving her prison was real. Then why did he still feel so unsettled? Why did some part of him keep turning the Queen's words over in his head?
Because there is the chance she is correct.
Jonathan clenched the fist of his injured hand, the pain flaring up and distracting him from his thoughts.
Either she was an incredibly light sleeper, or his slight intake of breath from the pain was louder than he thought. In any case, Clary awoke, her gaze falling on him immediately. ''Hey,'' she said in a whisper. ''You okay?''
Jonathan found it painful to even look her in the eye. After all, don't you deserve it? He let his gaze rest on her hands, which were still clinging to her phone. He couldn't bring himself to speak aloud, so he replied in her mind. Fine.
They didn't speak again for a moment. Clary began turning her phone over absently in her fingers. How long have I been out? Jonathan asked.
''Umm,'' Clary looked out the window, as if she too were unsure. ''I guess about 24 hours,'' she admitted.
Max isn't still here, is he?''
''No.'' Clary shook her head. ''I sent him home a long time ago.''
You haven't been here all this time, have you?
''Of course.''
Jonathan closed his eyes at that. You should go home.
''Yes, and you should go run a marathon.''
I don't see how the two are connected.
''They are both impossible things that neither of us can do at the moment.''
You can't go home? Are the buses on strike? Do your feet not work?
Clary frowned at him. ''You know what I mean.''
Does your family know you are here?
''Yes.''
And they are fine with it?
''Yes,'' Clary said again. Almost immediately her phone buzzed.
Jonathan watched her check the message. Is it Jocelyn?
''What makes you think that?''
The buzz sounded angry.
''It's the default ringtone. It sounds the same for everyone.''
You don't personalize your ring tones? Nothing sappy for Jace?
''No, why would I?''
I don't know. Cole did for Oakley.
Clary lowered her phone. ''How on earth do you know Cole and Oakley?''
I was really bored one night. Clary rolled her eyes in exasperation before finishing her text. So?
''So what?''
Is it Jocelyn?
Clary put the phone down with a sigh. ''Doesn't matter. I'm staying, okay?''
Jonathan let the matter drop. Clary stared at him a moment before reaching over and brushing some hair out of his face. ''Why didn't you call me?''
Jonathan closed his eyes. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to relive his conversation with the Seelie Queen anymore than he already was.
Clary seemed to sense this and didn't say anymore. She reached over and pulled his covers up. It improved the horrible feeling of cold that enveloped him. Exhaustion washed over him again and he fell back asleep.
Me: Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! I stopped writing for a while but have suddenly found the motivation again. I've been working on another TMI fanfic that actually takes place after this one. And in an amazing turn of events, it has actually given me ideas and helped me work out plot holes I had been having with this story.
I hope to work on this story more soon. If you have time, please leave a review!
Happy Writing!