Clary Fray (angel_blood) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2017-04-12 22:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !completed gdoc, !log, [plot] future kids take 4, ~2017 april, ~25 points, ~~clary fray (angel_blood), ~~~jace herondale (hatesbergamot) |
WHO: Jace Herondale and Clary Fray
WHERE: Their house
WHEN: During kidplot
WHAT: Jace sees what kind of father he is
RATING: PG
STATUS: log; completed
It had started out as an ordinary day - or as ordinary as it could get for two Shadowhunters who had no Shadows to hunt. Although they both had the day off, Clary and Jace had gotten up early to train at the obstacle course, using it in ways the original builders probably hadn't planned on. Hey, they needed something new to keep their skills sharp. It had been a good session, and Clary was still smiling when they got back to the house. She stopped smiling abruptly, however, when they walked into the kitchen to find a young boy sitting at the counter, eating as if he belonged there. She put out a hand to stall Jace, so he didn't throw a knife and murder a kid in their house. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?” The kid just finished off his cereal and rolled his eyes. “Very funny, mom. I am capable of making my own meals.” *** Jace probably wouldn’t have immediately jumped to murder when he saw a strange boy in his house. He probably would have restrained him and tried to get information first, perhaps moved on to torture or maiming if that didn’t work. But murder? Probably a little drastic. It was probably a good thing Clary stalled him. “Mom?” Jace repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I knew you were precocious, Clary. I guess I didn’t realize just how much.” **** In between gaping at the kid, Clary managed to shoot Jace a dirty look. “Not helping,” she muttered under her breath. Then, turning to the stranger, she asked a very pertinent question. “What?” The kid, who at least seemed well-mannered enough to bring the dishes to the sink, paused and stared at both of them before coming to an understanding. “Oh,” he said, and for the first time he looked a little more unsure of himself. He glanced at Jace nervously before turning back to Clary. “I’m Max. Your son.” *** “Which was clearly what you meant by calling her ‘mom,’ Jace said, sitting on the corner of the table and looking at the boy. “Max,” he repeated. “It’s a good name.” And certainly something he would name his son, if he had one. And Max had to be his, if he was Clary’s. He refused to entertain any other possibilities. Jace slid off the table gracefully, standing as he approached the boy. “You’re what...eleven? Twelve? I assume you have your first runes?” *** “Speed and Agility,” Max confirmed, watching Jace closely. He was, Clary realized, looking at Jace like Jace himself had once looked upon Valentine: full of desperate desire for approval. She drew in a breath. What kind of environment had they raised him in if he didn’t know how unconditionally he was loved? Because Clary knew that if she and Jace ever did have kids, they would be absolutely, unconditionally loved. “You must train hard,” she said softly. Max nodded quickly. “Every day, three times a day,” he said. “Father said I can’t afford to be complacent about my skills.” *** Jace recognized that look as well, and something turned inside of him. What kind of a father was he? He refused to believe that he was anything like Valentine. He was certain that he would consciously make every effort not to be. So why did Max look at him like that? Sure, he would expect the boy to work and work hard, but surely he also let him know that he was loved. Because that would be the first and most important thing he would feel towards any child of his and Clary’s. “You can’t,” Jace agreed. “And I’m certain that you aren’t.” No son of his would be. “What part of training do you enjoy most?” *** “The drills,” Max said, although there was an uncertainty in his voice that suggested he was looking for approval for his answer. “Training my body over and over again so it'll know what to do in a real battle.” Clary had no doubt he did train, over and over and over again. Having been a student of Jace’s herself, she knew what a hard taskmaster he was. Their child wouldn't have gotten off easy. “Have you fought a lot of battles?” Clary asked, frowning. Max shrugged. “A few. The dome likes to bring on demons and monsters once in a while. It's our job to protect those who can't protect themselves.” *** They were good answers. Almost too good, but Jace would let that go. For now. He himself was a bundle of mixed emotions over this kid’s presence and the things that he was saying. Not that they showed on his face, but he felt them all the same. He looked at Clary briefly, questioningly, then back at Max. “Yes, it is,” Jace agreed. “And I’m sure you've done so bravely and honorably. I’m sure your mother and I are very proud.” *** That remark should've been met with some pride and pleasure, but Max looked surprised - even shocked - to hear it coming from Jace. For a moment he looked like he was struggling to figure out how to respond. Clary’s heart clenched, and she reached out to take Jace’s hand - both to give support and to take comfort. “Yeah,” Max said softly, finally. He wiped his hands. “Can I go to my room?” *** “Of course,” Jace said, watching as the boy disappeared up the stairs. He was silent for a long moment, holding Clary’s hand but refusing to look at her. “What kind of a father am I?” He said finally, and there was a pain in the words that he couldn’t hide. It was a good thing he didn’t feel the need to hide them from Clary. *** “One who doesn't seem to be very obvious about his love,” Clary replied softly. There was no denying that their future son felt a lack of affection from Jace, but she knew it couldn't be from an actual lack of affection. Jace loved deeply, and he wouldn't want his kid to grow up like he had. “Do you want to talk to him?” *** Alone with Clary, Jace wilted. She was the only one around whom he was comfortable letting his feelings show, and he was feeling lots of things right now - very few of them good. “I never wanted to be anything like him he hissed. “But apparently I am.” He was silent for a moment, considering her question. “What would I say to him?” *** “Hey, listen to me,” Clary said, turning around so she could face him. She took his face in her hands so she could look at him fully. “You are not like him. You could never be like him. Whatever's going on, it's something else. Just ask him. Show interest. You were already different from what he expected. Keep going.” *** Jace nodded and with a sigh, climbed the stairs to the boy’s bedroom. Knocking on the open door before poking his head inside, he managed something approximating a smile. “Hey,” he said. “What’s going on? You okay?” *** Conveniently enough, Max’s room - or the one he’d gone to - was one of the empty rooms in the big house. He was standing in the middle of it, looking around like he’d never seen it before. Which he hadn’t - not in this current state. Back home, in his time, in his world, he’d decorated it with weapons and posters of weapons - and the occasional drawing. Now, it was neat and empty and not his at all. When Jace came in, he turned around quickly and looked uncertain. “I...this isn’t my room.” *** “No,” Jace said. “Not yet. Perhaps it will be someday, but this is not that day.” He put his hand on the kid’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his golden eyes. “What did I say downstairs that upset you?” *** “I wasn’t upset,” Max said, but his eyes darted around guiltily. “I don’t let my emotions control me.” His gaze turned back to meet Jace’s, obviously seeing approval for that assertion. He’d been told so many times to keep hold of his emotions so he could focus on the task at hand, but sometimes he couldn’t help it! His mother called him a Sensitive Soul, but he knew it was a disappointment to his father. So he tried really hard to follow his father’s advice. *** What few people knew - probably only Clary - was that the boy had likely inherited that sensitivity from Jace himself. However strong he seemed, Jace felt everything very, very deeply. He had always considered it his greatest weakness, although he was slowly starting to see it as a strength, as well. “That’s good,” he said. “A shadowhunter can’t allow their emotions to control them,” he said. Then he stopped, and rather awkwardly continued, “But you are allowed to feel them.” *** Max blinked and looked at his father in surprise. “But you said…” He trailed off. He’d heard the first part of that speech many, many times - but not the second. Maybe his father had just assumed that the second part was obvious, but Max had always taken it to mean that he shouldn’t feel emotions at all. It was a neverending source of frustration to him that he just couldn’t help his overflowing feelings. “You always said my emotions make me vulnerable,” he said quietly. “And that I need to get a handle on them. I’m trying.” *** “They do make you vulnerable,” Jace said. “But they also make you strong. You have to learn how to use them without letting them use you.” Jace hated that the boy seemed so afraid of him, so eager and desperate to please. It felt like he was looking at himself with Valentine, and Jace had never wanted to be that kind of father. “It’s okay to feel,” Jace said. “I became stronger once I met your mother, and let myself love. Love is a very powerful force. Stronger than just about anything else.” *** “I guess,” Max said uncertainty. He did believe it, deep down, but… “You've never said anything like that to me before,” he said, looking away again. *** Was he that terrible? Or was he even himself? Perhaps this boy was from a world where his past had gone differently. It was always possible. “Why haven’t I?” He asked. Maybe the boy could at least give him some small hint of what was going on. *** Max shrugged, staring down at his hands. He felt deeply uncomfortable at having this conversation, even though he’d desperately wished for it for as long as he remembered. No, he’d just desperately wished that his father would sit down and talk to him at all, about things other than training and his progress there. But now that it was happening, he had no idea what to say. “Mom says it’s because you have high expectations, and you don’t know any other way of training anyone because that’s the only way you were taught.” *** Jace didn’t know how to answer that right away. He looked at the boy, then finally sat, running a hand through his hair. “Then perhaps you need to tell me how you wish to be trained.” The last thing he wanted was to do to his son what Valentine had done to him. *** “Well, I…” Max abruptly stopped, not comfortable with giving his father instructions. But he was Clary Herondale’s child as well as Jace’s, and that was what gave him the courage to continue. “When mom trains me, she tells me what I'm doing right too, so I can keep doing it. And she gives me different ways to try things if I don't get it the way she first taught me.” *** “I never tell you if you’re doing something right?” Jace definitely didn’t like the sound of this future him. If and when he had children for real, he was going to have to remember this as a warning of how not to be. “I’m sure you do many things right. Maybe...you’d like to come training with me later? I’d like to see what you can do.” *** “You tell me what I'm doing wrong, so I can fix it,” Max hurried to assure him. He didn't add that yes, his father didn't tend to tell him he was doing something right. Sometimes he wondered if he did anything right, ever. His mother told him he did, but she'd always been nicer and more considerate of his feelings. He'd rather hear it from his father, simply because it would mean that much more. “And...if you want to drill me I'm up for it.” He smiled eagerly at his father. “I've been practicing extra hours like you said I should.” *** “Well, let’s do that then,” he said, resolutely. “Although maybe not today.” Tomorrow would be a better time, after everything strange that had happened today. “What do you say we go downstairs and see what your mother is up to?” Because he was sure that Clary wanted to get to know the boy too, and he didn’t want to command all of his attention. *** “Yeah, okay,” Max said, not without some measure of relief. It’d been a strange day for him too, what with his father being suddenly so...nice. He was going to have to take some time to absorb this, and he’d feel better doing it around his mother. He did, however, give his father a tentative smile. “Let’s go.” |