Fallen From Grace

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"Departed here I stand, watching the unfolding of events of my own doing, waiting for the great master plot that ends what I could not finish,"

~Your very sorry author who rushed through this and knows that the quote makes no fcking sense

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21 NOVEMBER 2008

Beth had fallen unconscious when Alec had stuck a needle into her neck. Jonathan sighed, looking at the unconscious girl that lay unmoving on the white infirmary bed.

Before she had surrendered to whatever sedative Alec had injected her with, Beth had given Jonathan a look so full of fear and above all, a vicious hatred that scalded him that he had felt his soul rip into two. He had never seen so much hate in a person's eyes before and in Beth's eyes, that emotion was scarlet and far more pronounced.

Hatred had caused her amethyst eyes to flash as if they were really gems as they stared a hole into his face, like lasers. They were terrifying.

White gauze and a softer dressing had been wrapped around Beth's stomach and ribcage, her bloodied shirt swapped for a loose light blue shirt that Isabelle had changed for her after promptly kicking Alec out despite his protests that he was gay and in no way attracted to females. Jonathan had looked away as Isabelle undressed and cleaned Beth of the blood and grime that had clung on to her skin like parasites.

"Where are they?" Isabelle muttered now, pacing. Her boots were making soft click clacks against the tiled floor as they walked and wore out a path into the stone. Alec was seated on the bed beside Beth's, his blue eyes following his sister with the same worry in her eyes, though it was concealed behind faux exasperation.

But there was no bluffing anyone. Jace's was Alec's parabatai and above all he should be the most worried and no doubt that he was. And anything that happened to Clary was the same as hurting Jace which was another thing that weighed on Alec.

It had been almost twenty minutes since Jace and Clary had left and they still hadn't returned. Jonathan's chest was being weighed down with worry, a burning feeling that popped questions--that would have  made his heart race if it were still beating--into his head. The worry and anxiety was making him restless, making him look from Beth to the door of the infirmary.

For the first time in months Jonathan felt something other than self hatred and regret and they turned out to be emotions categorized under Emotions That Fuck My Head Up. He was truly beginning to hate his afterlife.

"They'll be fine, Iz." Alec sighed, sounding as if he was also trying to convince himself. He clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees, shifting his steady gaze to Beth.

The rise and fall of Beth's chest was consistent and Jonathan found himself breathing along with her, to mark the passing of time and to calm himself.

The method worked and he felt himself relax ever so slightly. He reached a hand out as if to touch her--but thought better of it, thinking about how she would flinch and recoil and probably scrub her skin where he touched her raw if she were awake, and pulled his hand back to rest it on his lap.

He tried to process the worry he felt for Beth and wonder what it truly was. They utter most definitely were not romantic feelings but they didn't feel sisterly either. Could it be friendly? But they were barely friends and Beth's previous spitting encounter with him further confirmed the lacking of friendly feelings in their--whatever it was--relationship.

Reluctantly, Jonathan admitted that he was a selfish bastard and decided that his worry--though partially for Beth--was mostly for him. He was afraid that if Beth died, he would be all alone again, not knowing if any other individual on this cruel planet could see or talk to him. Even if Beth did hate him, she would still react to him and her reaction signified that he was not alone and he wouldn't go mad with solitude.

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