Detained [2] 《SHADOWHUNTERS》

Chapter Thirty-Five

When Andy woke up the next morning, she certainly wasn't expecting to be covered in warm blankets or to feel a pillow behind her head. She expected to open her eyes to a cold, blood-stained shoreline, her brother dead beside her and Clary not far behind. That was if she woke up at all.

Everything was fuzzy. She remembered watching a blade go through her brother's back, screaming at her father, fighting harder and dumber than she had in a long time. She remembered being shoved into that dark water. And then it was hazier; a trail of blood in front of her, leading up to her brother's corpse. Blinding light, her redhead – Clary – talking to something in the sky. Clary kicking their father and getting kicked back ten times harder. Her father on the ground, eye torn out and bleeding.

But here she was, despite her limbs screaming, eyes fluttering open to find one of the closed-off rooms in the infirmary. There was a stiff bandage around her right arm and the fingers on her left hand were bound with medical tape. Her senses felt overloaded by the light and smell of home, even if it mingled with the blood and sweat on her skin. 

And then her eyes found him.

He didn't wait another second, standing from the uncomfortable chair he had been slouched in and rushing over to the bed. He sat down on the edge, careful to avoid her legs, and leaned down to wrap his arms around her. 

He was gentle and cautious and Andy was having none of it, tightening her arms around his shoulders and tugging him against her. Her fingers twisted into the cotton of his sweater, trying to hold back tears. "You're alive." She whispered, barely believing it. 

She pushed him back suddenly, nearly giving him whiplash just so she could look at his face. It was him, every detail. From his golden locks to his angled chin, to the tiny scars she had left on his jaw and eyebrow years ago while training. His eyes were still intricate waves of hot chocolate and sand, mixed with splashes of blue that matched her own.

She released a pent up sigh and abandoned her attempt to hold back her tears as she pulled him into a tight hug once again. He grunted as she nearly squeezed the life out of him, but she felt like she held the right to. Certainly well above their piece of trash father.

Their father. She stiffened. "Is he–" She couldn't bring herself to face her hopes, fearing it would bring her an answer she didn't want to hear.

Jace pulled himself away from her, trying to get some air. He met the expression on her face, torn between celebration and determination. He nodded. "Valentine's dead." He sucked in a deep breath, hoping the feeling that statement gave him never went away. "He's dead, Andy."

A smile lit up her face and she closed her eyes for a moment to truly take it in. He was dead. Breath left his body, heart-stopped, dead. He was gone. And while she hadn't been the one to do it, she discovered it didn't make much of a difference to her. A weight was lifted off of her chest regardless, and she felt better than she had in months.

When she opened her eyes, Jace was prepared for the next bone-crushing hug she drew him into and returned it with just as much love and relief. They were okay. Their father had come back to haunt them and they had made it through, alive.

Well, mostly alive. Alive in the end? Whatever it was, it was good enough.

When they pulled back this time, Andy was beaming. He chuckled. "And all it takes to get you happy to see me is dying. I would've done it a long time ago."

She gave his quip the credit it deserved but glared at him regardless. "Don't joke about that."  She insisted as she grew serious. She grabbed his hand and fiddled with the ring on his finger. "If you had... I don't know what I'd do, but it wouldn't be good," she admitted.