Chapter 30
Jonathan took another breath to steady himself. He gripped the bathroom counter tighter, the cool granite now slippery from his palms. He raised his head and forced himself to try again. My name is Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. He opened his mouth, and yet no sound came out.
Stupid human, he growled to himself. He resisted the urge to kick the vanity. He straightened up and ran his hands through his hair before trying again.
My name-
His throat closed up on him. Now he did kick the cabinet.
It was stupid. He was stupid. There was no explanation for this sudden inability to talk other than some stupid human failing. It had happened slowly, almost without noticing those first few days, where he talked to no one. The times Clary had managed to come and see him he could talk a little, but it had hurt. Not physically, but there was just this…feeling in him, this instinct that told him that to speak was dangerous and that he better just not.
Jonathan sighed and leaned on the counter again. One more time, just to prove to himself that he wasn't weak.
''My-''
He ended on a croak. In rage, he grabbed the soap dish and flung it across the room. It collided with the tile wall with a satisfying ringing noise.
Anger was swirling in him. He was not weak, he was not stupid. And being afraid to talk was indicative of both those things. It was bad enough he had started relaying on those fucking blood replacement runes to help with his lack of demon blood, but now this? Any more handicaps he should reduce himself to?
He turned back to the vanity and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He bit his tongue, refusing to flinch at his reflection as he had the first time he had noticed. The ghostly pallor and shadows under his eyes were not what bothered him, nor the fading bruises from the Queen's attack. It was his eyes themselves. Two, bright, green orbs in his face, almost like Clary's.
And definitely like Jocelyn's.
Jonathan clenched his fist and exited the bathroom before he lashed out and broke the mirror.
He went to his bed and threw himself onto it, not caring about his still healing ribs. He was cold, but refused to allow himself to get under the blankets. The cold was familiar, if not comforting. He had always been cold. Cold in manner, cold to the touch. Coldness was one of the few things that let him know he was still him.
Jonathan shivered. It was easier to bear when I didn't notice.
His gaze went to the window to the bright day outside. It had been several days since the Graduation Ceremony of the Shadowhunter Academy, according to Max. Clary had given Jonathan the highlights, which for her was the moment Simon Lewis, now Lovelace, regained his memories.
Remembered how I was the reason you all went to the Demon Realms. Remembered he lost his memories in the first place due to me sealing the borders.
Jonathan curled himself up tighter. No doubt very, very soon, his trial would be held. The large formality that would be the chance for every creature from Shadowhunter to Fairy to behold him and watch with great glee at the justice that would be served. Part of Jonathan couldn't wait. As the Queen had said, he would get his eternal answer.
But don't you already have it? He could hear her purring voice in his head.
Jonathan shut his eyes and pushed the thoughts away. He reveled in the quiet darkness, until another intrusive thought pointed out how Hell was so much darker.
….
Max was doing his best to feign happiness. He felt like he owed it to his family to not show how worried and fearful he was of this upcoming trial. After all, this trial was his fault. His family had been through so much and now they all had to go to Idris and be under the scrutinizing eye of the Clave. First he had to go and die and now he was putting them through this? What kind of brother and son was he?
He was doing what he could to be helpful and grateful, especially since that day his father and Alec came back without Jonathan in chains. Alec had claimed it was due to law and had quoted some old boring text, but Max didn't care. He knew his brother did it for him and Clary, and it made him so very, very happy.
Of course, his father had pointed something out. 'It's just delaying the inevitable.'
Jonathan's inevitable trial…his inevitable sentencing…his inevitable death.
Max forced those thoughts aside. One thing at a time.
Right now, he was with Alec and Magnus at their apartment, watching as they packed for the visit to Idris. He kicked his feet from where he sat on the arm of the sofa, smirking at the new toys laying around. ''I can't wait to meet my namesake.''
''I wish you'd stop calling him that,'' Alec grumbled as he began looking through one of his bags on the dinning table.
''I can't wait to meet my successor,'' Max amended. ''My doppelgänger. My stunt double. 'Max 2.0'.''
''2.0,'' Magnus said thoughtfully. He looked to Alec. ''Now there's a middle name.''
''No, it's not,'' Alec said quickly. ''His name is Max, just Max.''
''Just Max?'' Max looked at Magnus. ''So first name Just, middle name Max?''
''You know what, I lied. We didn't name him Max so just forget it.'' Alec zipped up his bag with a finality.
Max was worried he was teasing too much, so he changed the subject. ''Why isn't he here yet?''
''Because of rules and regulations involving warlock children and leaving Idris and coming into the mundane world,'' Magnus answered.
''How do you get around it?''
''By waiting patiently and being cooperative and being the person on the new Downworld Council who calls the shots.''
''Ah!''
''Great morals,'' Alec muttered. Max realized it might not be him Alec was annoyed at, but the situation in general. And not the one involving his new son. It's because of Jonathan. It's because we are going there and he is going to die and he's upset that I will be upset. Max didn't know how to comfort Alec, since if that was his thought process, it was correct in every way.
Max hopped off the arm of the sofa then. ''Well, I will see you guys later,'' he said. When we are on our way, the condemned guy in tow. Upset at his own choice of words, he dashed out before Magnus and Alec even had a chance to say goodbye.
Max ran down the stairs and outside as if he could outrun his worries. He didn't stop until he was two blocks away. He paused a moment to catch his breath. How are they going to do it? He wondered morbidly. I mean, the questioning can't take long- we all know the answers. So how will they execute him?
Execute him? A jolt went through Max at the thought. Jonathan, executed. Jonathan…dead.
The very idea of that happening, of him letting that happen, was awful. Jonathan couldn't die. He couldn't let Jonathan die. He had brought him back, and without him, he wouldn't have been able to come back. Without Jonathan, Clary would still be suffering from her lost memories. How could Max repay him by just letting him die? Letting him be killed?
I promised him redemption and all I've done is condemn him.
Max remembered what Clary had said when he told her about wanting to rescue Jonathan. ''Max, he killed you.''
''And if I thought he was the same person I wouldn't even bring this up.''
Max didn't think Jonathan was the same person he had been. He was changed since being freed of the demon blood, had regained perspective from that dark path he had been on. He deserved a second chance. He deserved a life.
Then I guess I can't let him die, Max thought firmly to himself. How he was going to stop it he didn't know, but then again he hadn't known how to come back to life and he had figured that out. One thing at a time. Somehow, he was going to keep Jonathan Christopher alive.
….
Clary felt as through there were some creature with very sharp teeth living inside her, and it was slowly gnawing on her insides. ''We're setting out for Idris in the morning,'' Maryse continued, speaking more to Jocelyn and Luke than to Clary. ''The Trial will commence the day after.''
Her parents took the news in silence. Maryse had come to their apartment to deliver this news personally, and Clary couldn't tell if it was out of concern or fear. She felt like she was being watched by all the people in the room, even Jace.
The Trial. Jonathan's Trial. It was clear everyone sitting in the living room believed in only one outcome. Logically, Clary knew there was only one outcome. And yet her throat closed up at the thought. I can't lose my brother again.
'I want redemption. And this… this is how I can get it.'
Is this really what you want? Really, truly your only option?
Jace was sitting on the arm of the chair Clary was on, and she could feel his fingers on her back. Though he sensed her sadness, she knew he felt the same as everyone else: Jonathan needed to die. In this situation, Jace was not on her side.
Maryse sighed, and Clary realized she must've missed the end of the information. ''Now, there is one last thing I need to ask.''
''Yes?'' Luke prompted.
But it wasn't Luke Maryse answered. Instead, she looked to Clary. ''Clarissa, are you coming to Idris?''
Clary was surprised at the question. ''Yeah,'' she answered immediately.
''No,'' Jocelyn answered at the same time.
Mother and daughter looked at each other, and once again Clary realized she was all alone. ''Clary, you can't,'' Jocelyn insisted, her look pleading. ''We both know…''
''Know what?'' Clary asked harshly as Jocelyn trailed off. ''I have to go. I have to be there.''
''Clary-''
''Clarissa,'' Maryse interjected. Her tone was harsh and commanding. Clary looked at her and realized Maryse was not here to spare feelings. ''You know what the outcome of this Trial will be.''
She had to swallow a lump in her throat. ''Yes.''
''You know the Clave has little to no interest in any sort of defense Jonathan Morgenstern might have to offer.''
''He's not offering a defense.''
''I am aware. In truth, the Clave had also little to no interest in whether not his sister or mother is present at this Trial. This Trial serves one purpose, and that is appearances. Jonathan Morgenstern will stand up for all the Shadow World to see and accept the punishment by his government. There is no avoiding this.''
A part of Clary wanted to be angry at this blatant statement of the situation. Another part of her was grateful at least someone was being open and honest about it. ''I know.''
''If your desire is to come and try and avoid this outcome-''
''It's not,'' she protested. He doesn't want me to…
''-Your outcome will not be pleasant,'' Maryse continued. ''However, if your desire is tied to your recent.. remembrance, and you wish to come in order to bid your brother goodbye…'' she eyed Luke and Jocelyn, ''I cannot imagine anyone wanting to deny you that chance.''
Clary realized she loved Maryse. She might be like everyone else and think her memories of Jonathan were suspicious, but she also was understanding. She was honest and letting her deal. Clary loved her. ''Thank you.''
Maryse got up from her seat. ''I will see you in the morning then.'' She eyed Jace. ''That is the right time, isn't it?''
Jace looked a little surprised, but blinked at her in innocence. ''I think so.''
''Good.'' She looked back at Clary and her family. ''Good bye, then. Jace, are you coming?''
''Yeah.'' He got up and gave Clary a kiss. ''See you.''
''See you.''
Maryse and Jace walked out. Clary could feel the tension between herself and her parents and longed to break it, but before she could speak, Jocelyn got to her feet. ''I'll be right back.''
Clary watched with a sinking heart as she marched to the door after Maryse and Jace. ''Is she going to fight her?''
Luke ran a weary hand over his face. ''Maybe.''
He got up, not even looking at Clary. Clary realized the animal gnawing at her had a name: Guilt.
….
Maryse paused on the second stairwell out of the apartment building, knowing full well Jocelyn was behind them. She and Jace turned to watch her walk over to them. ''Jace, why don't you go ahead?''
''You really want to be the prey of an angry red head?'' Jace asked.
An image of Eliza and Jocelyn back at the Academy rose in her head. ''I've had years of practice.''
There was a tone in her voice Jace must've sensed to be the one that meant she wasn't in the mood to argue. With a nod he continued on his way, leaving Maryse waiting for Jocelyn.
Jocelyn came down the stairs. She stood in front of Maryse, spreading her hands. ''How could you do that?''
''Do what?''
''Just invite her to Idris? You had no right.''
''I had every right,'' Maryse argued.
''No. She's my kid and what I say goes.''
''You've been living as a mundane too long.'' Maryse gestured up the stairs. ''She's nearly sixteen. Working to be a warrior. You need to treat her like one.''
''She has been through enough crap without having to attend an execution!''
''She wants to go!''
''Doesn't make it a good idea!''
''What do you think about her memories?''
Jocelyn blinked. ''Excuse me?''
''Her memories,'' Maryse said, ''what do you think about them? Do you believe they are true? Do you believe she is under some sort of spell to think that they are true?''
Jocelyn looked baffled. ''I don't know.''
''Wrong.''
''What?''
''You're wrong.''
''I didn't answer the question!''
''That's because it's the wrong question! It does not matter if her memories are real or not, it does not matter if she views Jonathan as her brother or as her enemy. What matters is he is the boy she didn't know existed, who came into her life only to destroy it. She needs to be at that meeting so she can see him accept his punishment and make peace with the fact that she will never have the life she could've had. The life she should've had.''
'' 'Should've had'?'' Jocelyn crossed her arms. ''What the hell does that mean?''
Maryse was not interested in pursing this conversation. ''You know what it means.''
''Yeah, it sounds like blame.''
''I don't remembering mentioning blame.''
''Do you blame me for Jonathan?'' Jocelyn's tone actually sounded curious underneath her anger. ''Do you blame me for what happened to him?''
Maryse inhaled sharply. ''Valentine experimented on him.''
''Is that a no?''
''It is what it sounded like.''
Jocelyn grabbed her arm. ''Is that a no?''
'Let go of me.''
''Then tell me yes or no!''
''I don't know!'' Maryse screamed at her. ''All I know is if I went back to my house the night of the Uprising and it were on fire, God himself couldn't have stopped me from walking in there to make sure my son was alright.''
The anger and horror on Jocelyn's face couldn't have been put into words. ''I thought he was dead.''
''But you didn't know.'' Maryse's vision blurred from tears. ''You didn't know.''
The shock of Maryse's words made Jocelyn's grip on her arm slacken. Maryse bushed her off and walked away, her footsteps on the metal stairs echoing throughout the stairwell.
Maryse had to lean against the wall outside and remind herself to breath. She had had no intention of saying that to Jocelyn. Never, ever did she ever allow herself to even think those things. It were as if the knot of emotions that had festered in her since the days of the Circle had risen up in her, as if her young twenty year old self had done the screaming she had longed to do ever since that night. The night that had changed her life forever.
Maryse could feel the horror as it filled the room. ''What do you mean, dead?'' Robert demanded.
Maryse's heart stopped as the Inquisitor shook her head. There was a buzz in her ears as they were told about the burned mansion, the bones found. The bones of Clarissa and Granville, of Valentine and Jocelyn.
Of Jonathan Christopher.
Dead. They were dead. All of them. Grandparents, parents, and child. Valentine had killed them all and himself.
In the days of preparing for their exile, Alec had been as uncomprehending of his playmate's death as he had been of Cèline's and Stephen's. ''Where's Jonathan?'' He would walk around asking, his two year old voice lisping his words. ''When can I play with Jonathan?''
Maryse had been at a loss for what to say to him, and longed for him to stop asking. And yet she feared him ceasing to ask, because then it would mean that- just like with Cèline and Stephen- her little boy forgot.
Maryse cleared her throat and wiped her face. The past was past. It did not matter. Her points to Jocelyn about Clary still stood. Clary should have the chance at closure that Maryse and all the other Circle members never got.
…
Me: look at how smoothly I pretend as if Little Max was always in the story and not at all hastily added since, upon starting this fic, I had no idea of his existence.
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Happy Writing!