Maybe [The Mortal Instruments] {Rewritten}

II Jonathan's P.O.V

"I'm back!" Katherine's announcement echoed through her apartment, reaching my ears as I reclined on the couch.

I had been residing in her home for the past couple of weeks, my wounds healing at a pace that fell somewhere between my impatient desires and the sluggish pace of a regular mundane's body. Fortunately, this progress granted me the freedom to move around, sparing me from the confines of bed rest.

Choosing to remain indoors was a deliberate decision. The realization that venturing outside would render me vulnerable to potential enemies convinced me that it was a prudent course of action. Surprisingly, I found solace in this notion. It afforded me ample time to forge a connection with Katherine, developing a friendship that grew despite the interference of her job and college commitments.

"Welcome back," I greeted her from my spot on the couch, immersed in one of Shakespeare's timeless plays, Hamlet. Glancing at the clock, a minor rebuke echoed in the recesses of my mind for adapting to a routine so swiftly, but I dismissed it. "You're early," I remarked, gesturing towards the bags she held.

"The professor had other commitments and ended the class early," a small smile played on her lips as she explained her early departure from class.

"Smart girl," I complimented, relishing the sight of her blushing cheeks. "What do you have there?" I pointed towards the bags.

"Today's dish ingredients and some stuff for next week; the fridge is almost empty," she replied, heading toward the kitchen.

Halting her progress, I relieved Katherine of the bags. "Let me put them in their place, and you go get a shower," I directed, emphasizing my point with a look that prompted a muttered response from her.

She complied with my suggestion, and as she vanished from view, I turned my attention to organizing the groceries. During this mundane task, I couldn't help but ponder whether this sensation mirrored the concept of having a home—a place of return and someone reliable to lean on.

"What the..." I shook my head vigorously, as if physically banishing the intrusive thoughts. "What is going on with you, Jonathan?!"

The echo of my own words lingered in the air, a self-directed question that left me grappling with the uncertainty of my evolving sentiments. After all, what did I need with a home or someone to rely on? My aspirations were clear—to be a ruler with Clarissa as my queen. Yet, even as I internally reaffirmed these ambitions, the words seemed to lose their resonance. Each passing day spent in Katherine's company chipped away at the certainties I had clung to. Her forgiveness and inherent kindness, contrary to my expectations, began to exert a subtle influence on me.

Since the demise of my father, the failure of his grand design, and my resurrection by Lilith, the Nephilim presented a constant threat. I harbored the knowledge that if captured, I'd face immediate execution without a moment's hesitation. This realization fueled my resolve to assert dominance over them, evading death at their hands. However, Katherine's presence compelled me to confront the shadows of my past and question my approach.

A nagging voice prompted me to wonder, "What if I were to go to the Clave and lay bare the truth?" What if I detailed the torment inflicted by my father from my childhood, his manipulations, and the ensuing sense of profound loss? The notion that they might extend forgiveness, much like they had for other Circle members seeking redemption, dared to linger in my thoughts.

Yet, this line of thinking felt naive, reminiscent of a girl sheltered from the darker facets of reality—a soul unacquainted with the burden of causing harm. An innocent who couldn't fathom the idea of inflicting pain upon another living being, much like her commitment to a vegetarian lifestyle.