Chapter Seven

A/N: No reviewers.

Jocelyn crept along the hallway, not wanting the creaking floorboards to give away her position. Even for a copy of Fairchild Manor, the small details were uncannily accurate, and she was reminded of her childhood, trying to escape from a telling-off from her mother. She wondered for a moment if her son had wondered the same things; she imagined Valentine would have been a far more terrifying prospect than Adele Fairchild, especially for an infant.

As she reached the heavy wooden door, the redhead could feel the metallic taste of bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, forcing her fears to the back of her mind the same way she had done in her days as a Shadowhunter. It was a struggle not to see her next task as a battle.

Jocelyn reached out her hand, hovering just above the door handle, the tremors of anticipation clear in her limbs. She wanted nothing more than to turn away, to run back down the corridor and hide away in the safety of her bedroom. 'I'm a Shadowhunter. I don't run from my demons. I fight them.'

The young man was sat prone on the bed, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him. There was a photograph hanging there from eighteen years ago, when Valentine had captured her laughing, her arm curved affectionately around her growing belly. It must have been one of the only times she had shown affection to Jonathan, and he had not even been born yet.

"Exploring again?" the boy asked, his voice laced with bitterness. Jocelyn did not even flinch; she had become used to Jonathan's abnormal abilities. "You might want to try the attics. There's loads of antiques up there, you might find something you want."

At that, Jocelyn did flinch. All those years she had thought about her son, longed for the boy who was stolen from her womb and poisoned. She had never imagined how he would feel, the child she had brought into the world. She wondered now if she even would have cared.

"You know, this house is a copy of Fairchild Manor, the house where I grew up." Jocelyn told him, taking a tentative step forward, then another when he showed no sign of movement. Eventually, she was granted a curt nod. "Then you know that I know every corridor in this place like there's a map written on the back of my hand. I couldn't have ended up in this room unless I wanted to."

"And why would you suddenly want to?" Jonathan asked, turning to face her. His voice carried the casual confidence his father's always had, but beneath it there was a little glimmer of hope.

"Jonathan," The name felt like poison on her lips. "You are my son. No matter what happened in the past, no matter what happens in the future, that will always be true. And I've spent so long without you, I want to get to know you."

"That's the feeblest argument I've heard in a while." Jonathan sneered, but this time, his voice was weak, as if he did not truly have the heart to insult his mother further. His next question was disjointed in the conversation, but Jocelyn understood it. She had been waiting for it. "If you wanted me, why didn't you look for me?"

"Because I thought you were dead." Jocelyn answered, not missing a beat. Jonathan blinked back at her; he had clearly expected her to take longer to think up an answer. To think up a lie. "I left you with my parents at Fairchild Manor. When I got back there, the whole house was burning. I stayed there all night, watching the flames die down to ashes. And when they did, I went searching through the rubble, and I found bodies. Three adults and a baby."

"You must have been so relieved." Jonathan stated, his tone mocking.

Jocelyn shook her head feebly, her eyes lost in the past. "I'd never felt pain like it. I risked everything that night, to stop your father, and I lost it all. I think it was only then that I realised I loved you. It's true, you know. You don't know what you have until it's gone."

"But… but I had demon blood." Her son was breathing heavily, his voice stuttering. "I still have demon blood. How can you love a child like that?"

"I won't lie to you, Jonathan." the redhead stated, taking a gentle seat on the edge of the bed beside him. Jonathan shuffled over, putting some distance between them, but it was an achievement nonetheless. "It's difficult. The moment I met my daughter, Clary, when she looked up at me with her little green eyes, I loved her. It wasn't the same with you. With you, I didn't know what I felt. It wasn't love, not then. But it could be. If you'll give me a chance, to try and make it right."

Jonathan did not respond, staring straight ahead once more, focusing on the picture of his pregnant mother until his eyes glossed over. He had waited for this moment for so many years- his father had promised that Jocelyn would return to them one day- and now he did not know that he even wanted it.

"Just give me a chance, Jonathan." his mother whispered. "That's all I want."

Suddenly, Jonathan felt a stirring inside his heart, an emotion so intense he did not know what to make of it. He had never felt such a thing before, such an intense desire to be near his mother and to keep her safe from harm. Most people experienced it all their lives, but for Jonathan, that brief flicker was the most love he had ever felt.

"Alright." he agreed, trying to make it sound more like an acquiescence than a desperate plea. "If you really want to, then I've got nothing else to do. But I'm warning you, you won't be able to help. No one's ever been able to help me."

"Be honest, Jonathan," Jocelyn interrupted, resting her hand down on the bed between them. She did not expect him to react, but it was enough to know he had not pushed her hand away. "How many people have ever tried to?"

Jonathan did not give an answer, but he awarded his mother a knowing smile. He had never smiled so much in his life. Soon enough, his worries wiped the smile from his face, a small frown furrowing his brow, the frown of a child who wanted their mother. "Do you really think I can be different? That I can be… more like her?"

Jocelyn smiled gently. "You don't have to be like Clary, Jonathan. You're you. But if you want to be different from how you are now… I think we can manage that, together."

Jonathan nodded slowly, his frown ebbing away. The smile did not return and he returned his gaze to the picture hanging on the wall, but just as Jocelyn was about to get up and leave, she felt a hand lay on top of the one she rested on the bed. The woman sighed contentedly. For the first time, she truly believed that, before long, her family might be complete.

A/N: Jonathan and Jocelyn have got a complicated relationship, but I think they might have some potential. What I wanted to show here was that Jocelyn regretted Jonathan's 'death', even if she didn't really love him yet, and that Jonathan was just longing for someone to love him. So we'll see how that relationship turns out! Please review!